Sitting, waiting, wishing

When you live in a third world country, it can be kind of hard to keep up with worldwide happenings - like a U.S. election, for instance. Tonight, faced with the decision to watch the final presidential debate, Monday night football, or the Giants-Cardinals game, I really had the urge to just turn off the TV.
In the end, I sat through the debate but I wasn't impressed with any of it. My vote goes to the moderator Bob Schieffer for not telling them both to shut up. Politics will never change. It will always be divisive, full of lies, he-said-she-said. I'm already tired of it.

I forgot how terrible television is. I sit on the couch and scroll through the channels, and I'm disappointed every time by the crap that Americans watch. There's a show called Cheaters, which is all about people cheating on other people and having huge dramatic confrontations. People care about the strangest things.

Sometimes... I feel like I haven't missed much. Sometimes I wish I were back on my veranda in Mozambique, without the barulho of advertisements, political arguments, sports fanaticism, MTV... just me and my Mozambican dogs, and maybe a mango or two.

New day, new adventure.

So far so good.
Every day is a new adventure.

The grocery store.
I'm overwhelmed the moment I walk in. Too much of everything. Over 10 types of apples, are you kidding me?
The banana bunches freak me out because they're three times the size of the Mozambican bananas I'm used to buying.
I guess it's not acceptable to ask for a bacela when I'm checking out?
Kev and I make a bet at the checkout counter, he says the total is $110, I say it's $130. In the end, it's $110 and I pay for everything. How much produce would I have to buy to spend that much in Mozambique? (I have to stop trying to convert everything to meticais in my head...)
























The bank.
What? Everyone is so nice! The banker shakes my hand, introduces himself, calls me by name, and  is just so helpful. He keeps apologizing for the wait, ha ha. What wait? Twenty minutes later, he has everything taken care of. And then he walks me out and wishes me a nice day.
I'm pretty sure that in Moz, the same bank errands would have taken three hours, which means that I just saved 2.5 hours of my life! Wheee!!! This calls for a celebration, and a Starbucks passion tea lemonade.

Target.
This place is nuts! Just rows and rows of  brightly lit everything. I'm glad I'm with Kevin because he seems to know what we're looking for and where it is; I just follow him and try not to get whiplash from the speed my head is turning as I "apreciar" as much as I can. (Aaaand another $100 dropped here)

The laudromat.

I haven't seen a washing machine in two years. How convenient is just tossing a few quarters into a slot and letting it do all the work for you? I could probably sit in front of the dryer and watch clothes spin for days. 

Foods, foods, foods.

Yeah. Can we talk about spiced salmon tacos, lox and bagel, bacon, brisket and gravy, root beer floats, sushi, bleu cheese burgers, coconut shrimp, peppercorn steak medallions, spinach omelettes, arugula salad, and carne asada burritos? 

Except everything sort of makes my stomach hurts. And I keep forgetting that I'm lactose intolerant until I've already ordered something with tons of cream in it. 
Oh well.
Doesn't. stop. me. 

The Journey Home

Three planes (Maputo -> Johannesburg -> Dubai -> LA) and 34 hours in transit finally brought me home to the U.S. of A...
My last few hours in Moz (which included being late to the airport, bribing a cop, having a problem with my visa, and getting harassed by airport personnel) sent me sprinting on to the plane, ready to get the hell out. Nonetheless, I cried when we took off and I got my last glimpses of Mozambique. I also cried when I re-read the poem one of my jovens wrote me, and when I opened the letter I'd written to myself two years ago the day I swore in as a Peace Corps volunteer, and when the U.S. immigration officer told me, "Welcome home, little lady!" and when the Customs official said, "Welcome home and thank you for your service" and when I hugged Kevin for the first time. Basically, I spent a lot of time crying. And I'm sure there will be plenty more times to come.
As the plane descended upon LA, all I kept thinking was how beautiful America is... the sky was amazingly blue, the Pacific Ocean so vast, the city so organized and developed with clear highways and tall buildings. Even from miles up in the air, you can see such a huge difference.Over Africa, the red sand and spaced out clusters of rusted tin roofs. Over Dubai, the endless sand dunes of the desert. Over LA, the city so gray and geometric. The cars on the freeway looked like ants zipping around the anthill. Everything is picture perfect, nothing is out of place, even the trees are manicured. I think the guy next to me on the plane was laughing at me because I pretty much had my nose pressed to the window pane until we were on the ground.
Seeing my fiancé Kevin was surreal; he had a bouquet of flowers for me and a shiny new iPhone which I wasted no time playing with. There was a moment in which I became very disoriented, when we got to the car and I realized the steering wheel wasn't on the right side. 
Aside from that, everything's been great so far. I do miss Mozambique but I'm still high on the euphoria of being home, eating tons of good food (last night: asparagus and spiced salmon tacos, and German apple cake and this morning: bacon and eggs, lox and everything bagels). Next week I'll be back in San Diego, where all I have on the agenda is unpacking and catching up with old friends. It'll be nice to just relax for a while and get used to the idea of being home.

"Well, congratulations. Parabens! Here opens a new chapter of your life just as today, in the past, a new chapter will open up as well. Here's to hoping that you and I are not complete strangers, that even if we are, one day far down the line we'll both see, that our struggles were made worthwhile and that everything turned out exactly the way it's supposed to be."
- In a letter to myself for the end of my Peace Corps service, written December 03, 2010

I'm coming home / I'm coming home / Tell the world I'm coming home

I am the first of my Peace Corps Mozambique group to COS (shout-out to MOZ15!!!) and as I close out my service, I keep hearing talk of “Reverse culture shock”- that complicated phenomenon that hits expatriates upon return to the homeland. Contrary to popular belief, returning home is not as easy as just picking up where things were left off. Time has elapsed, people have changed, everything isn't the same.

In a way, going to Africa was easy because I was mentally, physically, and emotionally prepared for something completely new and different. On the other hand, I don't know that I'm prepared to feel like a stranger in my own country.

I kept a weekly blog during my two years abroad (Musings from Mozambique). Now as I enter the next phase of this crazy adventure, I'll be writing about my experience coming home and re-joining American society.

Some of the blog names I considered in creating this blog:

• Life Without Mel (my dog)
• Menos Moz (“without Moz”)
• No More Lanche (a reference to the Mozambican custom of having snack time between meals)
• De lá para L.A. (which would work if I actually lived in Los Angeles and not San Diego)
• Voltando (“returning”)
• Embora (“away”)

In the end I chose USAmbique, which I felt encompassed the sentiment of being stuck in the middle, neither here nor there, in limbo. I loved my time in Mozambique and I'm sooo excited to be home but I anticipate that the next few months will be a challenging and emotional adjustment.

Join me on my journey of re-entry, as I re-learn what it means to be American and come to terms with being, finally, an RPCV.

Viv